


Unbecoming

by sarahenany



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-01-15 11:22:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12320067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahenany/pseuds/sarahenany
Summary: Hookfang is there after Snotlout and his father have 'words.'Or, it was just a matter of time before I gave in to the urge to have Hookfang comfort Snotlout after a punishment. Blame the RttE writers for putting the idea into my head in 'Thawfest.'





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thursday26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thursday26/gifts), [Sakumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakumi/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The names the dragons use for themselves - Fire-Scale, Nightwing, etc. - are used with grateful permission from 10Blue10, who writes epic HTTYD fan fiction on Fanfiction dot Net. Check her out!

Notes: Yes I know this is a cheap and unrealistic oversimplification of years of emotional abuse. What can I say? Cheap is what I DO. You want not-cheap, go read s/8973642/1/Challenge

Also, I'm not entirely sure whether this takes place on the Edge or back on Berk. Or what Lout did. I just needed the wallow.

* * *

After the confrontation with his father, Hookfang finds Snotlout huddled on the floor, shaking. Hookfang is a  _real_ dragon, not some kind of domesticated parrot like Stormfly, or that tame excuse for a Nightwing forever petting his human – but he approaches Snotlout with unusual carefulness, and even lets out a soft whuff to alert him to his approach.

"Go away, Hookfang."

Of course, he's not some obedient dragon to just do what he's told. Besides, Snotlout's voice is… strange. It makes Hookfang feel as if he's swallowed something that doesn't agree with him. How can a voice make his stomach hurt?

The pull in his stomach is telling him to approach his rider.

He's maybe half a wingspan away when he's hit by the stench of pain and fear and misery. He recoils, and roars.

"Shh! Keep it down! I don't want the others hearing!"

Blast it. Fire-Scales are not built for caring. He tries to find out what's wrong with his rider, but can't very well nose around at him like a Terror: everything he tries to do is blocked by his own teeth. Hitting upon a solution, he starts to investigate with his tongue.

Snotlout stiffens when Hookfang licks him.  _Huh,_ Hookfang thinks, _the way he acts, you'd think I never groomed him before._ Hmm…  _Has_ he ever done it before? Well, it's high time he started. So he does. Snotlout tastes like he smells, but just now he tastes bitter. And scared. And lots of twisted emotions humans often radiate.

Now he thinks of it, he's always felt those twisted emotions on his rider. He just never tasted them so strongly before.  _What's causing all this?_ he asks the human. It comes out as an inquisitive whuff.

"Ah, I disappointed my dad," Snotlout mutters. "We had… words."

Hookfang looks closely at Snotlout's face. From what he's seen of his rider's sire, "words" means his sire has probably been screaming at him and berating him. Spitelout reminds Hookfang of his own sire, always on about the honor of Fire-Scales. The honor of a single human bloodline so intermingled with all the bloodlines of the village that the scent is indistinguishable, this "Jorgenson," is much sillier than his own sire's insistence on Fire-Scale honor, but at least he gets where the deluded human is coming from.

What Hookfang can't get is where Snotlout's sire gets off making him smell like that.

He finishes licking Snotlout's hair and face. He expects some sign of irritation from his rider, but the human just lies there. And the smell of fear and pain is still strong. Is it lurking somewhere Hookfang hasn't licked yet?

Snotlout makes to move, but he's still shaking. It makes Hookfang feel odd. He makes a little sound, and starts to slide his tongue underneath Snotlout's tunic, where the smell is strongest. "Hookfang! No!" Snotlout snaps. Hookfang, of course, ignores the human's command – it's what he does, and Snotlout knows this. Snotlout flails, so Hookfang lays a forewing on top of Snotlout's head to shut him up. Free to investigate, he slips his tongue under the hem of the tunic where it meets his trousers, nudging aside the waistcoat. The smell assails him, heat and pain rising from…

Hookfang hisses and recoils. Is Snotlout  _burned?_

"HOOKFANG!"

He ignores the human. His scales itch to flame, but he pushes it down. It's hard to suppress. He wants nothing more than to set himself on fire to relieve the pressure within his head, caused inexplicably by knowing that another dragon has scorched Snotlout – scorched him  _far far worse_ than  _anything_ Hookfang would ever inflict on him. Snotlout has never recognized that a Fire-Scale can lower the temperature of its flame. Hookfang suspects that Fishlegs knows, but doesn't speak of it, and he's always appreciated the boy's circumspection in leaving the honor of Fire-Scales intact. Hookfang has never used anything but the bare minimum of heat in his body to mess with his short, stubby, delicate-skinned human rider with his fragile,  _fragile_ skin. And now someone has  _hurt_ him.

The pressure in Hookfang's head is getting uncomfortable. He bumps Snotlout with his nose.  _Who did this to you?_

"Hookfang, get off me!"

He lets his tongue investigate further. When it slides fully under Snotlout's tunic, his partner flinches and hisses. In pain. Someone  _has_ hurt him. The human's delicate skin is ridged and hot, broken in places.

When Hookfang's tongue touches the wounds, Snotlout stills entirely, as though caught doing something wrong. He slumps, strings cut. As Hookfang's tongue probes and soothes, Snotlout flinches, his little human paws curling into fists. Hookfang doesn't  _coo_ like that pathetic excuse for a Night Fury, but he doesn't see anything wrong with a manly purr. Snotlout needs it. He needs – Hookfang is very gentle as he laves the hot and wounded flesh – he needs… he needs… Hookfang purrs, feeling Snotlout tremble at his touch.

The human is  _crying._ This is too much. He really, really needs to flame.  _Who did this to you?!_

"I just, I made a mistake. It's my fault."

Hookfang growls.  _If I see the one who did this to you, it'll be HIS fault._

But Snotlout cringes and shakes his head.

 _Why?_  Hookfang asks. He waits, but no answer is forthcoming. Hookfang tongues his shirt up, sniffing delicately at the wounds. And he smells  _kin_.

Kin. But not Hiccup. He knows Hiccup's smell pretty well, and the little human's scent translates to  _leader/_ _queen_ anyway. No, this… He recoils. Snotlout's sire?  _Your **father**  did this to you?_

His human doesn't speak Dragonese, but he's probably understood that Hookfang's sniffing has told him what he needs to know. "It's my fault, Hookfang," he mutters, face still pressed into the dirt. "Don't worry about it."

 _His fault?_ Humans are crazy. His rider is still in pain, fearful and anguished and trembling, everything about him screaming  _injured-vulnerable,_ and he blames  _himself?_ Hookfang growls again. _How can this possibly be your fault?_ He slips his long, flexible tongue beneath his rider's shirt again, tracing the painful area. Snotlout shudders at his touch.  _What_ is this pain in Hookfang's chest? It seems to be relieved when Hookfang croons to his rider, so he does. That's just self-interest. Anyway, the fledgling's hurt, it won't kill him just this once. Besides, no-one's watching. He applies soft licks all over Snotlout's back, using the underside of his long tongue, which he knows is smooth enough to be soothing. His partner's relaxing a little. Hookfang can smell that his physical pain is easing, although his heart is aching. He licks his partner's wounds again, glad to be able to make him feel even a little better. The stupid feeling in Hookfang's chest is still there.  _You don't deserve this,_ he purrs, pushing down the anger that Snotlout's kin hurt him, and that for some reason Snotlout thinks it's his due _. It's not your fault._

"I shouldn't disappoint him."

Hookfang growls.  _He's your sire. If anyone should forgive mistakes, it's him._  There's a memory buzzing in his skull,  _not worthy of the name Fire-Scale,_ but it's not worth remembering, not now.

"I disgraced the Jorgenson name… No-one in my family ever did that before. He's right to be disappointed." Snotlout makes a soft sound that Hookfang knows is human weeping. "I wish I'd done better. I wish I'd made him proud…"

Hookfang pulls in his tongue and nuzzles Snotlout openly.  _Cast the human off your back,_ he hears his own sire's voice in his head. _You are unworthy to be a dragon, much less a glorious Fire-Scale._ For answer, he rubs the soft parts of his chin and the top of his head against his human's cheek.

"He said love had to be earned. Why can't I earn it? I want him to love me." Snotlout is still crying softly. Hookfang rubs the side of his massive jaw against the human's, wonders what his sire would have thought if he could see this. He's never wished he was a small and puny Nightwing before, but now he thinks that if he was soft and tame like Toothless, he could better comfort his small, soft human. He presses his neck against Snotlout's cheek.

There's an odd wrench in his chest – but not a bad one – when Snotlout reaches out, almost hesitantly, and puts his arm round Hookfang's neck. Hookfang purrs, loudly, to let him know it's okay – to let him know to  _not let go –_ and keeps purring. The sound soothes most humans. "Thanks, Hooky," Snotlout mutters into Hookfang's neck. He pulls Hookfang in tighter. Hookfang won't wrap his wing about the human –  _disgrace to the name Fire-Scale –_ but it's no shame to curl his tail about his legs. It's not like it's some kind of overt gesture, not like that Nightwing and his—

"Hiccup. I fucking  _hate_  that little runt," Snotlout mutters into Hookfang's neck. "Hiccup makes so many more mistakes. I remember when he destroyed half the village and Stoick  _still_ didn't punish him. Stoick thinks Hiccup's so cool." For a moment, the human's body radiates more pain than it did when Hookfang first found him, more pain than Hookfang can still feel coming from his back. "I always do everything right! I try to be a Jorgenson. Why can't I make him proud of me?"

Hookfang's urge to flame is so strong it's starting to hurt. And what in the name of shells and flames is _wrong_ with his chest?

_Wait. Voices. Outside._

Hookfang slips his head out of Snotlout's grasp. Snotlout turns to him, human ears picking up a second later on the sound of teens walking and talking outside. "Hookfang!" he says desperately.

This is why Hookfang cares –  _no not cares caring for a human is a disgrace to dragons –_ why he  _appreciates_  Snotlout. Hookfang wouldn't want anyone seeing him weak either. He gets between Snotlout and the doorway, and flames up. Snotlout obliges by yelling, "HOOKFANG! CUT IT OUT!"

"Think we should do an intervention?" comes Fishlegs' amused voice.

"Are you kidding? I'm not getting in there," Astrid replies.

Toothless – at least the Nightwing is discreet, for he can surely hear and smell what's really going on – says  _yes you're right, stay away._

"They'd probably turn on us, anyway," says Hiccup.

Snotlout's eyes meet Hookfang's, and they both preen a little at that. At least the others treat them with a healthy respect.

The footsteps fade away. Hookfang lets his flames settle, shaking himself so he won't hurt Snotlout by accident. Snotlout half-turns onto his side. The motion makes him groan. "Nobody finds out about this.  _Nobody._ You hear me, Hookfang?"

Hookfang grunts. Not like he  _could_ tell any of the humans, and the dragons will smell it on him anyway. But they'll keep quiet.

"Especially not my cousin."

Hookfang grunts again. His sire would bite his head clean off if he saw what Hookfang has become. He knows what it is to need to keep secrets from family.

He moves closer to Snotlout, and offers his neck for his friend to hold.

Snotlout reaches for him. His arm is still shaking. Hookfang slips his tongue under Snotlout's clothing again, checking his injured back. The welts are not as hot as before, but they need soothing. He gently hooks Snotlout's waistcoat in his outer fangs and pulls it off. Snotlout allows it, but tenses when Hookfang pulls at his tunic. "No! They can't see! Hookf—"

Moving between Snotlout and the door, Hookfang flames up.  _I'll protect you. I won't let them see._

Snotlout starts to get up, panicky. He's still shaky. "Hookfang…"

Hookfang pushes the door shut, hard.  _I won't let them see. I know._

"Thanks." Snotlout slumps. His scent says  _fatigue,_ not just  _misery._ "He means well."

Hookfang was  _just_ going to let his fire die down, but the outrage fans his flames. He growls.

Snotlout's voice cracks. "He means well, Hookfang! He's just looking out for me."

Hookfang suppresses the urge to roar.

"He's a good dad, Hooky."

Hookfang takes a couple of steps away from his human, because he can't help the increasing heat that flows into his flame.

"No, Hookfang, don't say that! He's a good dad, I just need to try harder!" Snotlout's voice is raw now.

Hookfang narrows his eyes at Snotlout _. A good dad compared to Razorwhip sires, maybe, who eat their young as soon as they are hatched._  Or… or his own…his own...

Hookfang shakes his head and growls. His flame feels good. Like vengeance.

Snotlout is muttering on the ground, soft human fists clenched, water coming from his eyes as he calls himself a disappointment and a failure for losing some stupid race.

Hookfang's sire says  _Don't you dare douse your flame for a human._

Hookfang carefully douses his flame. Then he pads over to Snotlout, wings spread.  _Nobody will see us. Let me take care of you._

Snotlout looks up at him, and his soft human eyes look so  _wounded._  He makes a thin sound in the back of his throat.

Hookfang hooks one of his long teeth into Snotlout's tunic and pulls it off. The sight of Snotlout's burn— _not a burn,_ he reminds himself, for all it looks like a burn—makes his chest feel funny again. He curls himself around the human, offering his neck for Snotlout to hold. The stubby, soft human arm wraps round Hookfang's neck. Hookfang rests his head on Snotlout's legs, glad that Snotlout's fragile burned –  _no, whipped –_ human skin isn't suffering more pain by being trapped under heat-trapping layers of clothing. Using the underside of his tongue, he recommences lapping at the large overheated area of swollen welts and bleeding places on Snotlout's back. Maybe it will do some good now that he can actually cool them. He starts to purr, knowing it will soothe his partner.

 _Miserable excuse for a dragon,_ Hookfang's sire says in his mind.  _Soft. Disgrace to Fire-Scales._

Hookfang keeps up a strong, steady purr, tenderly using his tongue to ease the pain in his partner's burning back.  _Oh, shut up._

Snotlout's breathing is evening out, his trembling easing. "Thanks… Hookfang," he says, and his tone is  _stunned,_ as if kindness after his supposed 'failure', whatever it was, was unthinkable to him until now.

Hookfang doesn't even think what his sire would say. He just reaches out for his badly shaken partner, using the smooth outer curve of his front claw to brush the hair from his face. _The next time I see your sire,_ Hookfang promises,  _you better keep him away from me or I will set him alight._

He's fairly sure Snotlout hasn't understood the threat, because he just reaches up and curls his soft human fingers around Hookfang's claw. "Thanks, Hookfang," he repeats, still with that wondering tone. His fingers tighten as Hookfang's tongue makes contact with a particularly sore welt, and Hookfang lets out a growl before purring again.  _Yeah,_ he's like the Nightwing. Anyone wanting to get to his rider will have a Fire-Scale to get through first.

His purring seems to be lulling his rider to sleep. "Hooky…" He's never heard Snotlout so vulnerable. "You won't let anyone see… okay?"

Hookfang presses his claw into Snotlout's cheek and nods.  _Go to sleep, fledgling. You are protected until you are strong again._

Fire-Scales aren't the best suited for comfort. If Hookfang was built like a Nightwing – shells and flames, that dragon and his human are like a pair of stuffed toys – he could cuddle Snotlout. Or nuzzle him like Toothless does Hiccup, if he didn't have teeth protruding. Or take him flying, if he wasn't so fragile right now.

But he can lick his wounds until the burning is cooled and give him his neck to embrace and lie down next to him and wrap his tail about him and cover him with his wing and purr through his dreams as he cries and murmurs in his sleep about disappointing his sire.

So he does.

And after a while, Snotlout reaches out and clutches at his wing like a stuffed toy too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another time through Snotlout's eyes.

“Remember, son: Respect is earned. Whippings are free.”

Spitelout walked out of the Jorgenson family seat, the door swinging shut behind him with a solid  _thunk,_ leaving his son behind him to think about what he’d done. Still lying on the floor, couldn’t even take his whipping like a man. Soft, association with Stoick’s little shame had made him soft. To make matters worse, that blasted lizard had set himself on fire again, he noticed as he walked off toward the center of the village.

 

* * *

Snotlout’s hands scrabbled against the floorboards. Anything to hold back his tears. It was bad enough he’d fallen halfway through his punishment. He’d already gotten extra for that, but gods, if his father had seen him shed tears, he’d have been joining Dragon Boy and his crippled dragon on Stump Day.

He dragged in a breath, then another. It was only the backs of his legs that had been punished, but his whole body felt on fire. Not literally, this time. But each step was like walking on knives. Soon the swelling would start and cripple him entirely. He had to get moving.

Still on the floor, he dragged his leggings up from where they'd been pulled down around his ankles for the punishment. His dad wasn't here, so he could groan as much as he liked as the fabric rasped over his welts and cuts. When they were pulled fully up, the backs of his legs felt hot and tight and slightly numb, shot through with blistering agony.  _Don't be so dramatic,_ he castigated himself.  _It's a whipping, not the end of the world. No big deal._

But as he tried to rise, pain cut through him; he staggered and fell. When he hit the floor, the dam burst: one sob, then another. By the time he'd dragged himself to his feet and limped out of the house, ugly, wrenching sobs were tearing themselves from his throat, however hard he tried to choke them down. He didn’t dare cry in the house lest his dad come back, but leaving the house was always the worst moment. Being exposed. Wondering if any of the others was outside, if anyone could see.

But the minute he opened the door, he was met with a wall of flaming Monstrous Nightmare, and suddenly it wasn’t quite so bad anymore.

 Snotlout had long ago convinced Hookfang that killing his dad would have really bad repercussions on Snotlout’s own well-being. Dragons had quite the hierarchy themselves, and Hookfang understood that having living parents, especially parents of high status, was advantageous. So he let Spitelout live.

There was something gratifying about the thought that it was Snotlout’s intervention that  _let_ Spitelout live.

Still didn’t make days like this hurt any less.

The minute he was clear of the door, he found himself scooped up by the back of his shirt and deposited on Hookfang’s back. “Oh, hi, Hooky,” he said mock-casually, as if the dragon hadn’t been listening at his window and roaring denial with every scathing word or insult and bursting into flame every time the rod struck Snotlout’s legs. The dragon barely gave Snotlout a moment to lean forward and clutch onto his horns before he leapt up into the sky.

The ride was a lot smoother than Hookfang’s regular style. Snotlout let himself lean forward, taking the weight off the backs of his legs. He rested his stomach on his dragon’s neck, pressing his cheek against Hookfang’s eye-bulbs, and let one arm wrap around Hookfang’s neck. He pretended it was because he was steering. Only he wasn’t; even though he knew where they were going, his eyes were closed. 

There was a sea-stack that Hookfang had discovered and made into ‘their place,’ back when the Fangster had been recovering from losing his flame, and now he took Snotlout there every time he’d been punished. Even some times when his dad didn’t feel it necessary to discipline him, just point out the error of his ways, Snotlout still found Hookfang taking him there, first making him strip to triage him, then curling up like a cat – no no no, like a  _wild beast –_  and listening to Snotlout’s account of his father’s words and roaring and flaming. It always made him feel better.

This time his dad hadn’t just pointed out the error of his ways.

 

* * *

The moment they landed, Hookfang started nipping at his leggings. “Okay, okay.”

Peeling the tight pants off was hard, especially the part where he had to bend to take his boots off and shimmy out of them. His dad would have given him extra for groaning. Thank all the gods the blood wasn't dried yet, or else that would have been... painful. At some point Snotlout started leaning heavily on Hookfang, who offered his head and a wing for support. “Nothing’s wrong, you see?” he grunted once he’d finally shucked the leggings, careful to keep his front angled toward his dragon’s line of sight. “It’s fine. You make such a b—big deal out of every…” He choked. “It—I don’t…”

Hookfang picked him up by the scruff of the neck like a hatchling and laid him down on his front. “Stupid dragon,” Snotlout choked. He was rewarded by a whap on the side of his head from Hookfang’s tail. The exchange made him feel better.

Snotlout looked behind him, head pillowed on his arms, as Hookfang caught sight of the backs of his legs. His nostrils flared and his pupils pinpointed. Then he flamed up, head thrown back, and roared to the heavens.

“Ah, come on!” It felt good to tell Hookfang he was making a fuss over nothing. “Quit your dragon drama. This is just a little… consequences, that’s all.”

Hookfang narrowed his eyes, got his face up in Snotlout’s and hissed.  _Consequences for what? What could you possibly do that would make someone do this?_

Snotlout shrugged. “Let down the Jorgenson name, that’s all.” He wished he could sound airy and casual, but the words caught in his throat. He hoped Hookfang couldn't see that he was shaking.

Again Hookfang threw his head back and screeched, a plume of flame issuing from his mouth.

“Pipe down, Hooky. They’ll think it’s a flare.” He shuddered in spite of himself. “Can’t let them see this.” He couldn’t see what ‘this’ was, but it was certainly making Hookfang overreact. And now that the emotions of the whole disciplinary episode were dying down, Snotlout’s legs felt pretty damaged. To be honest? Right now, he felt like he could never walk again. It was excruciating, as though he was still being beaten as he lay there.

His face flamed as he realized he would have to ask – no, tell – no, COMMAND – Hookfang not to lick his sore legs yet. But to do that, he’d have to admit he  _had_ sore legs. It was embarrassing to talk about his well-deserved punishment – to this day, in the Jorgenson household, it was forbidden to talk about a whipping once it was over. A Viking pretended it wasn’t there; anything else was weak whining for sympathy. Once, he’d been looked at very coldly and then given a second punishment for complaining.

But with Hookfang, it kind of felt okay. Just about. Just enough.

“Hookfang, don’t touch,” he muttered, face still buried in the grass. “Not yet, okay? Hurts too much.”

Hookfang screamed the loudest Snotlout had ever heard. Snotlout’s head snapped up just in time to see him fire a great burst into the sea. His flame vaporized a great trough of water below, the waves rushing into the gap and creating a temporary whirlpool. “What’s gotten into you, crazy dragon?!”

Hookfang screeched and swept into Snotlout’s field of vision, waving Snotlout’s discarded leggings in his jaws and thrusting them into Snotlout’s face.  _Look,_ he was clearly saying. The backs were scored with wet lines of scarlet, showing runnels and blotches where they’d run into each other, merging at the calves and ankles to the point where they were absolutely saturated with Snotlout’s blood.

The first thing that came over Snotlout was overwhelming relief.  _Good to know I wasn’t making a fuss over nothing_. Almost instantaneously, the thought burst into his brain,  _Of course you were. You don’t have any limbs missing, do you? Split skin is nothing, it’s just a little discipline._ He tried to raise his head. “It’s just a little blood, Hookfang! We’re Vikings! I’m a Jorgenson! We don’t faint at the sight of—Mfff!” Hookfang flapped a wing over Snotlout’s head to shut him up. “Stupid dragon…”

Hookfang roared and muttered, and Snotlout should have felt oppressed but all he felt was warm and not-alone. The very thought felt like treason. “Hookfang!” Snotlout mumbled, muffled by his Nightmare-wing gag. “It’s nothing, I swear! My dad wouldn’t hurt me! He told me that  _his_ dad used to heat up a poker and… What are you doing?”

A soft tongue touched the back of his knee. Snotlout’s vision went white. “Ow! Hookfang, no!”

Hookfang spluttered the way he did when he tasted something that didn’t agree with him. Snotlout trembled, reaching out and grabbing a bit of dragon, he didn’t know quite what. “Hookfang…”

Another lick, softer, then another. Snotlout bucked and squealed, but he knew that ultimately, he couldn’t stop Hookfang if the dragon wanted to lick his wounds. He went limp, fisting his hands in the grass to cope with the pain. He’d endure it the way he’d just endured his whipping. At least Hookfang wanted to help him, and…

He lifted his head, realizing that Hookfang had stopped. For a long moment, there was silence.

Then the wing lifted up off Snotlout’s face. After all these years, he was familiar with Hookfang’s  _Wait here_ gesture. With a great beat of his giant wings, Hookfang flew off.

* * *

 

“He’ll be back,” Snotlout quavered. “He’ll be back, he wouldn’t leave me alone. He wouldn’t.”

His dad had left him alone in the house. He’d been bleeding on the floor and his dad hadn’t waited to ask him if he was okay or even to tell him he was forgiven. Maybe he wasn’t forgiven. Maybe he wouldn’t ever be.

And now he was alone. Maybe Hookfang wasn’t coming back. At least he was alone, so no-one would see how he was such a loser that even his dragon had abandoned him. He pretended to be such a tough guy, but man, how they’d laugh if they could see him now.

He started to sob again. Hey, no-one was here. He could let ‘er rip. And he did, giving into his urge to wail into the thick sea-grass, fisting handfuls of it and ripping it up as he cried. It was never good enough, it was  _never_ good enough. It wasn’t fair! He tried so hard! He was always, always mindful of the fact that he represented the Jorgenson name. He acted like a true chief, or at least, like the way he thought his dad wanted a chief to act, because he hadn’t ever seen Stoick act quite like that… He upheld the family honor, he…

...he hurt. He hurt so bad, each heartbeat searing through his legs and making him feel like he might die just from exhaustion at fighting the pain back.

There was a great beat of wings as Hookfang landed, carrying something in his jaws. “Where’d you get that bucket?” Snotlout blurted, blinking his swollen eyes. “And what’s in it?”

Hookfang gestured to Snotlout with his wing, moving around behind him. The last person to do that today had been his dad, and Snotlout steeled himself. If Hookfang wanted to teach him some sort of lesson, Snotlout would be unable to do a thing to stop him…

The lancing pains in his raw, throbbing legs suddenly faded away.

It was just for a moment, but that moment took Snotlout’s breath away. Pain and relief warred for a moment, then the relief started up again. Soft coolness soothed the burning and pushed back the bone-deep ache beneath. He tried to ask Hookfang what he was doing, but his throat closed. He half-turned backwards, needing to see.

In his great jaws, Hookfang was holding a great wooden washtub, brimful of powdery snow. He shook his head rapidly from side to side, sprinkling more and more of the snow out onto Snotlout’s legs as Snotlout stared over his shoulder. He only realized his jaw was hanging open when it literally hit the ground—well, grass. He tried to say something, but no words came out. “Where—where’d you get that…” he tried to say, to keep it light. To make some kind of snide remark. But his voice was shaking. Badly. It was embarrassing.

Hookfang crooned.  _Crooned_ like Hiccup’s dragon. It should irritate Snotlout, but it felt like being held. Anyway, Snotlout had never seen a dragon croon with a washtub in his jaws before. That had to count for something. As if for emphasis, Hookfang tilted his head, tub still in his gaping, toothy mouth, met Snotlout’s eyes, and crooned again.  _Yeah, you heard that. Is there a problem?_

Snotlout’s jaw dropped again. He couldn’t help grinning. He reached out blindly with an unsteady hand to pat a bit of Hookfang – tail, perhaps – unable to take his eyes off what his dragon partner was doing.

Hookfang steadily kept shaking the snow out, letting it pile up around the sides of Snotlout’s legs and between his calves, nudging it slightly every so often with wingtip and tail to pack it in securely. As the snow piled up higher and the coolness penetrated deeper and deeper into his injuries, the relentless pain blunted more and more until it receded entirely. Hookfang was careful and thorough, working until every inch of the whipping was completely covered in a thick layer of snow. Snotlout wasn’t sure when it happened, but when Hookfang was done taking care of him, the snow had soothed even the bone-deep ache of Spitelout’s ‘severe’ rod.

When the bucket was empty, Hookfang laid it down and met his eyes. His pupils were large. Affectionate. It sent a shiver through Snotlout’s body that had nothing to do with his battered legs or with the coldness of the snow.

Snotlout opened his mouth, then closed it again. He wanted to ask  _Where in Midgard did you get snow and a bucket and get back here in less time than it takes to get from the Academy to my house?_ or  _How did you know this would make me feel better?_ or any of a hundred things. But he looked up at Hookfang, whose pupils had widened and softened in a way they  _never_ did, and started to cry again.

This wasn’t the loud, frenzied sobbing of earlier. This was a trembling that took him and scooped out every strength he thought he possessed, and he just lay there and shuddered, unable to stop the tears that flowed ceaselessly. “Hookfang, I… I… I let him down,” Snotlout choked desperately. “I let him down.”

Hookfang folded his wings under his chin and rested on the ground facing Snotlout. He shook his head.

“I did! I did.” He swallowed, trying to choke back his crying. “I shouldn’t cry, it’s weak, I shouldn’t…”

Hookfang shook his head once more, remaining impassive, as wise and serene as a Nightmare can look. But his tail slipped around behind his back to wrap itself about Snotlout’s shoulders, one warm coil coming up to fit snugly into the space between his neck and cheek. Snotlout pressed his face hard into the warm scales and let his tears soak into them, closing his eyes with an anguished grunt.

His friend grumbled.

“Hooky…” Snotlout forced his eyes open. “You gotta understand. He does everything for me, everything. He gives me everything!”

Hookfang jerked his head towards Snotlout’s legs, eyes half-narrowing sardonically.  _Yeah, I can see that from what he gave you this time._

A spluttering laugh forced itself out of Snotlout’s lips, making an inadvertent raspberry against the dragon’s scales, which made him giggle more, pressing his cheek into Hookfang’s tail as he laughed. Then he sobered. “I mean he raised me. I know you guys are independent much sooner than human babies. We really exhaust our parents. He feeds me and clothes me and keeps a roof over my head. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be nothing.”

The dragon’s head tilted to one side. His eyes narrowed in what was unmistakably a glower.

“What? You can’t deny that, Hookfang! A Viking has the right to discipline his own son! He’s just being a good father.”

Hookfang honked at that, a Monstrous Nightmare laugh that rippled the grass of the sea-stack.

Snotlout had stopped crying by now, and would have lifted himself up if he hadn’t been quite so comfortable wrapped in Hookfang’s tail. “Fangster, I appreciate what you’re saying,” he said, and he meant it. He hadn’t meant anything quite so much in his life. “But like it or not, he owns me.”

Hookfang slipped his tail very carefully out of its position threaded around Snotlout’s face and neck. Then he took a few steps backward, flamed, and roared.

Bereft of his comforting dragon-tail scarf, Snotlout suddenly realized his legs were starting to go numb with cold. Living a few degrees south of Freezing-to-Death made you pretty good with recognition of cold-related injuries. “I gotta…” He struggled forward on his elbows, hating how useless his legs were.

Hookfang bent to him. _What’s wrong?_

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it! I do!” Snotlout exclaimed, struck by a sudden fear that Hookfang would think him ungrateful and fly off, leaving him here alone. His dad had just laid into him for being ungrateful, among other things. He looked up at Hookfang. Maybe he should just let his legs stay freezing…

Hookfang’s long tail wrapped around Snotlout’s chest, just below his armpits, and dragged him slowly forward out of the cold. The big head lowered to his legs, nostrils flared, sniffing, looking from Snotlout to the piled-up snow.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be ungrateful!” was all Snotlout could say. “Don’t be mad, Hookfang, I was just cold—” A tail whapped the side of his head, and Hookfang’s head gently butted his chest, licking his face and purring. Then another smack upside the head. Snotlout grinned in spite of himself. “Okay. I’ll cut it out.”

Hookfang looked seriously at the snow, and it wasn’t a stretch to understand _Was that the wrong thing to do?_

“No! No, Fangster, it was awesome!” Snotlout grabbed the spike on the end of Hookfang’s snout, reaching out with his other hand to rub his face. “It still is. I just think I gotta take breaks so I won’t get frostbite, that’s all. But it’s perfect, it makes it not hurt, it’s _awesome.”_

Hookfang met Snotlout’s eyes and preened.

“Yeah, okay, _you’re_ awesome.” He wanted to add some insult, but he felt too scared of being alone, too scared that with one flap of his powerful wings, Hookfang would fly away and leave him out here to die. Well, that was melodramatic, they weren’t _that_ far from Berk, someone would probably come out at some point and find him… _maybe…_  if they wanted… if he hadn’t messed everything up all over again… He found himself tearing up again, and buried his face in his folded arms.

Hookfang nudged his elbow with a questioning croon. Snotlout shook his head, unable to look up. All he had to say was _Don’t leave me,_ and that would probably make Hookfang leave immediately. _Nobody likes a needy, sniveling wretch,_ his dad always said. “Hookfang… I’m sure you have dragon things to do. You don’t have to stay here.” He forced down the hitch in his voice. “I’m good. I feel fine.”

The soft whap to the back of his head would have been gentle even from a human; from a Monstrous Nightmare, it was a gesture of astonishing affection and restraint. In the face of it, Snotlout couldn’t shut himself away from Hookfang any longer. It would be positively churlish.

He looked up at Hookfang and tried to smile, which was doomed to failure. His legs were starting to throb again. Snotlout began to breathe deep and ragged, trying to push down the pain.

Big dragon nostrils flared. Hookfang sniffed at his legs, then picked up the bucket and sprinkled some snow experimentally onto Snotlout’s welts. _This okay?_

“Hookfang, you can’t keep coddling me like this.”

Dragon knowing looks were something Snotlout had never seen for the first fifteen years of his life, after which he saw them on a daily basis. “I mean it,” he said feebly. “It’s not ri— _ahh,_ that feels _wonderful…”_ He shook his head. “I’m sure m— _ohh…_ my dad didn’t mean for me to…” The relief was so sweet and overwhelming that he started to moan, hiding his face again in shame. _You don’t deserve this,_ said a voice inside him. _You would deserve it if you forced the dragon to do it, but lying here accepting his charity is a shame for a Viking._ “You shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be allowing it!”

Big, honking dragon laugh. Hookfang spread his impressive wingspan. _Like you could stop me._

He folded his wings and started up again with the snow. Through the aching relief, Snotlout finally registered that as he worked, Hookfang was purring. It eased something in Snotlout’s chest. He sighed, the purring calming him, the cold compress soothing him, and whispered, “I gotta be a better Viking.”

Hookfang’s wing reached out and tapped Snotlout’s helmet where it lay in the grass next to him.  _You’re plenty Viking,_  his meaning was clear.

“I’m not! I… I’m not as tough as you think I am.”

More honking dragon laughter.  _I know THAT, dumbass._ Snotlout didn’t have time to feel hurt before one of Hookfang’s wings came round to drape around his shoulders like a winter cloak, giving him a careful shake.  _But you’re mine anyway._

Automatically, Snotlout resisted _. Coddled after yer punishment, boy? Can’t take it like a man?_  “No…” he said, even as his traitorous face nuzzled into Hookfang’s wing-joint and his tears soaked into his friend’s scales. “I shouldn’t…”

_Shut up._

“Hookfang, this is all wrong.” Why wasn’t this fierce dragon, whom Snotlout couldn’t even control, repulsed by his weakness? Why didn’t Hookfang just leave? Why why WHY for the love of Odin couldn’t Snotlout stop crying? “I shouldn’t be letting you do this. I’m – I’m rejecting his punishment! I’m letting him down,” he choked desperately. “I let him down, I always let him down. He was never babied this way. When he was my age he had won the village challenges, he’d established himself as next in line for the chieftainship…”

Hookfang’s snort didn’t need words to convey  _Last I heard, he was NOT the chief._

“No, I know, but… You doing this… It’s not right…”

Hookfang butted Snotlout’s side and rumbled. _Hey, there’s no right or wrong between bros._ Hookfang’s tail wound around him again, squeezing Snotlout’s back and shoulders. It was like being held, like being supported, and it was un-Viking, and…Hookfang let out another ferocious rumble as the tip of his tail ruffled Snotlout’s hair, then, acting seemingly independently, curled around Snotlout’s hand and pressed itself into his palm.

“I shouldn’t… I…” The soft underside of Hookfang’s other wing slipped under his head, folded carefully like a pillow. Snotlout moaned, feeling his resistance crumble. He wrapped his hand desperately around Hookfang’s tail and sobbed, letting it all out, held and comforted in his partner’s wings, clutching his tail. His crying eventually gave way to exhaustion, and he drifted off, trusting Hookfang to hold it down while he was out.

* * *

When next Snotlout woke, the clear cold sun of midday had given way to the deep gold of late afternoon. His legs throbbed, but very minimally. There was no snow on them. And he’d fallen asleep with snow on them. Hookfang had taken it upon himself to take it off again… but he must have put it back on, or else Snotlout would be in real pain right now with all the time that had gone by… He realized, with a shock, that he wasn’t exactly where he’d been lying before. Hookfang had been moving him in his sleep, probably out of the cold each time he took the snow off. Gods, Hookfang must have been working on him all afternoon. _He didn’t have to do that! Why would he knock himself out that way?_

Snotlout blinked, taking everything in. A sea-bird of some kind was hopping through the tall grass, clearly not acknowledging either of them a threat. Beyond it was a flat, burnished expanse of hammered golden sea, less Midgard and more Valhalla. His partner sat placidly curled up next to it, sunlight glinting off his ochre scales like a creature from Valhalla too.

It wasn’t  _beautiful,_  because he was a  _Viking._ And it wasn’t  _comforting,_ because he was a  _warrior._ But… it made something feel soft and warm in his chest.

Then he noticed how Hookfang was seated facing the nearest landmass, with his back to the wind so that it would carry any newcomer’s scent to his sensitive dragon-nostrils, and angled so that the shadows would alert them if someone came from the other side, and how his ears swiveled constantly to pick up on any approach, and he felt better. Hookfang was a warrior. Like Snotlout. Like Snotlout who was lying there like there was something wrong with him, when he was perfectly healthy. Well, that was about to change. He braced his arms against the sea-grass, and stood tall and proud like a Viking.

Well, as he would repeatedly tell Hookfang later, stoopid dragon staring wide-eyed and then thudding his head to the ground and covering his eyes with both wings, that was what he had  _meant_ to do.

Of course he hadn’t counted on his swollen-thick, welted legs being asleep and basically useless. And of  _course_ Hookfang would do his  _SO-not-a-Night-Fury_ thing and let Snotlout fall flat on his face to tell him in no uncertain terms what an idiot he was for even trying to move so suddenly. But at least after he was done tilting his head and spreading his wings and letting Snotlout know it was a dumb move, he hooked his teeth into his tunic and righted him, lowering him a bit at a time to see if his legs would take his weight.

They wouldn’t. The moment he flexed his legs to stand normally, it was like standing on knives and the whole thing gave way, sending him sprawling face-down into the inside of Hookfang’s wing. “Ah, Hookfang, what am I gonna do?” Of course, the minute the question was out of his mouth, the answer came:  _What you’ve always done. Man up. Be a Viking, not limp around whining._

As he’d been admonishing himself, Hookfang had matter-of-factly laid him on his side with his head propped up on the soft inside of one scaly leg, and was shaking snow from the tub to pack Snotlout’s legs again. “Man, I’m sorry about all this. I must have done something to really make Dad mad. He doesn’t usually hit this hard.” Hookfang snorted and patted more ice onto his raw flesh. “Hooky, this is nice, but we gotta get going.”

Hookfang stared.  _Are you out of your pointy-horned little human head?_ Then he pressed him down.  _You’re staying right here…_ he applied snow to the backs of Snotlout’s knees, carefully pressing it to the tender welts and waiting. Of course the coolness soothed the shrieking tendons, and of course Snotlout, weak wimp that he was, eventually let out a heartfelt groan and slumped into Hookfang’s dragon-leg ‘lap’. “Yeah-okay-point-taken. It does feel nicer to just stay here,” Hookfang rumbled approval, “but I gotta be getting back.”

Dragon wings spread in a shrug, then resumed tending to his legs.  _What for?_

“Look, you must have been working all afternoon. You shouldn’t be doing this.”

_Why not?_

It was useless arguing with dragon logic. “Look, just, I have to get back.”

Hookfang kept working, not looking up, and rumbled. _Mm-hmm._

“I can’t stay… oh man, Hooky, that feels incredible but just listen to me…Ohgods…  _Listen,_ stupid dragon! …ahh… I can’t stay like this forever,” Snotlout managed to say through his moans of relief. His legs felt swollen to ten times their normal size and as stiff and useless as tree trunks. If tree trunks could hurt this much. He dreaded trying to walk on them; in fact, he wasn’t sure he could. “This might be another week in bed,” he muttered. “Great. I haven’t had one of those since I was a kid.” He tried to turn his head. Hookfang’s leg made a pretty awesome pillow, but he had to assert his authority here. “Hookfang, let me explain this. I’m a human, not a dragon. We stand by our own. I have to get back to Berk. I can’t just go off and disappear.”

Hookfang looked down at him, expression unreadable. “I don’t even want to know what you have to say,” Snotlout retorted. “This is just the Viking way. Deal with it.”

He ignored the dragon huff from above him and Hookfang’s continued efforts. Looking away from the dragon, Snotlout tried to figure out where it hurt the most: probably the backs of his scorched thighs and knees. But the pain was already subsiding as Hookfang piled the snow back onto his welts. And it felt  _wrong_ , like Snotlout was enjoying this too much when he should be feeling the aftereffects of his punishment. Though he’d not been allowed to mention his whippings once over, there was an assumption that Snotlout limping for a few days or staying in bed instead of coming down to meals was normal. It was punishment. It wasn’t supposed to be a picnic.

And even worse was all the trouble he was causing. The whole point of staying in bed and not mentioning your punishment was to _not be any trouble._ Part of being punished was not getting coddling and attention. Only winners and people who hadn’t been bad deserved to have time and effort lavished on them. That was one of the reasons he resented that runt Hiccup so much: he did everything wrong, and Stoick still took care of him. He saw the chief taking the little brat to meals, saving him from enemy attacks, keeping him warm, helping him lift things he couldn’t carry, doing things for him that he should have been left to struggle with himself. He’d always, always felt that no matter how badly he did, however many punishments he earned, at least he wasn’t a constant liability to his family like Hiccup was. And yet, Hiccup got care and attention, and Snotlout… Snotlout was a Viking. He wasn’t like Hiccup.

But Hookfang was ruining it, _ruining it,_ he’d probably taken the ice on and off him ten times today, and what would his dad say if he saw him being coddled like this? Snotlout put every ounce of authority into his voice as he snapped, “Hookfang, quit that. Take that ice off now.”

Dragon scoffing was not what Snotlout wanted to hear, even though he’d kind of expected it. “No, I mean it! I won’t have snow around forever. You can’t keep bringing me snow till the swelling goes down!”

Hookfang tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.  _Any reason why not?_

“Uhh…” Snotlout stared. “Be… because.”Another tilt of the head. _Well, someone isn’t making any sense._

“You don’t get it. It’s _supposed_ to hurt. I’m supposed to be hurting.”

Hookfang growled loudly, almost as if the dragon was in pain. Then he smacked him on the back of his head, his other wing still scooping soft snow onto the raw places on Snotlout’s legs. “I… ah, Hookfang that helps  _so much,_ gods…” Not only did the snow compresses flood his chest with relief, it made him feel more like he could walk in a couple of days and not a week. The smooth side of a claw pressed against Snotlout’s temple. Against his own will, he leaned into it. His eyes fluttered shut and he lost himself in his partner’s kindness. For long moments, there was only the bliss of being cared for.

The wrongness of it flooded him.He shouldn’t feel this cared for, this comforted. Not after what he’d done. Not after a punishment. “Hookfang, cut it out. I’ll be fine. I was fine before.”

More dragon scoffing, but this time he was prepared for it. “Just don’t, okay? Take me back to Berk. I have… things to do there.”

 _Mmhmm. Like what? Lying in bed?_ Hookfang’s wing patted his back. _You can do that just as well here._

Snotlout flailed. “Hookfang, you shouldn’t be coddling me! We’re warriors!” he appeals. “Aren’t we?”

Obligingly, Hookfang set his head alight. “Yeah, okay. You’re a savage beast.” The knowledge was comforting. “Me too. I’m a Viking. I can’t just run off every time I get punished for something!”

Hookfang tilted his head critically, then unfurled one wing. He laid it out flat sideways, then described a full arc over his head and down to the other side,  _sunrise-sunset._

“I guess we  _could_ spend the night here…” Snotlout said hesitantly. Then he shook his head. “Hookfang, I gotta man up about this. How do you think I’m gonna do anything at the Academy with th…” Fear thudded into his solar plexus. “Oh gods, how am I gonna explain this to the others? I’ll be laughed out of town!” He scrambled around in Hookfang’s lap. “I gotta… Ow. Oh damn it…”

Hookfang was looking down at him mildly. The dragon’s sang-froid was infuriating. He tilted his head toward Berk.“What, you think they wouldn’t laugh at me? You think Hiccup wouldn’t bust a gut to see me brought down and crawling on the floor?”

The dragon shook his head, sadness in his eyes.

“Ah, c’mon! We’re cousins! That’s what cousins do! You rub the other guy’s face in it when he messes up or gets hurt, that’s just the way it is! I do it for Hiccup and he’d do the same for… Ah, don’t give me that Hiccup-is-a-better-man crap!” Snotlout wailed in frustration. He threw up his hands. “What do you know, goody-two-shoes… four-shoes… And what is that thing, anyway?”

Hookfang had dragged over a sapling with a forked branch, like a slingshot as tall as Snotlout. He bent over sideways and snagged Snotlout’s pants in his teeth. He gestured to Snotlout to slip his pants over the Y-fork of the sapling.

“You’re crazy, but I’m gonna go along with you.” Snotlout reached out, intending to crawl out of the snow to reach the stuff, but Hookfang held him in place and dragged the tree and the pants into easy reach. His eyes said,  _Ruin my handiwork and you die._

“Okay, okay. I’ll let that slide just this once.” Human hands would have no trouble slipping the pants over the makeshift frame/hanger, but a dragon would need a human’s help. “What is this for, anyway?”

Dragon smug was another thing Snotlout had never seen for the first fifteen years of his life, and every day thereafter.  _Watch and learn, human._

“Yeah, yeah.”

Hookfang planted the sapling into the ground with the Y facing up. Snotlout’s leggings, upside-down on the frame, had stiffened with blood. “Oh Thor Almighty.” Snotlout shuddered. “I’m gonna be a laughing-stock…”

Hookfang breathed a long, steady burst of flame at the Y, carefully incinerating the bloodied backs of the pants. The branch prevented the fronts from getting burned. Then he gave Snotlout a look as if to say  _See._

Snotlout stared at the blackened, charred leggings, looking exactly as if someone had been wearing them while sitting on…

Hookfang flamed up.

Snotlout’s mouth fell open.

He looked from Hookfang to the branch, tried to speak, and found he had to swallow. “That’s our cover?”

Hookfang gave him a toothy smile. His flames shot higher.

“You’re right…” Snotlout whispered, grinning in spite of himself. “No-one’ll think twice about you flaming up and setting my pants on fire. They’ll just figure you were acting up.” He looked up at his partner. “And it’s fine if I go limping around the village. They'll think I'm burned. I could wear  _this_ pair with bandages under them. Or… Or anything. They’re just gonna think you…” Snotlout laughed with relief. “Oh, Hooky, you are so smart. You are the world’s smartest dragon. Hiccup and his Night Fury can go jump in the sea.”

Hookfang growled.

“You don’t like comparing? I know you don't. But this is a  _good_ comparing, Hooky, it’s not like I’m saying you’re  _worse,_ I’m saying you’re  _better._ My dad always said I was better than Hiccup. It always made me feel good.”

His dragon had sad eyes again. Snotlout didn’t like it when Hookfang was sad, especially when he’d just done this amazing thing that was going to save his reputation and save him from being laughed at and save him from having to hide in bed until he can walk normally again. “Okay, I’m sorry, I won’t compare you to Mister One-of-a-kind. Or anyone. That okay with you?”

Hookfang’s tail came around to tap Snotlout’s chest. “What? Me too? You don’t want me to compare my strong and powerful Vikingly self with the rest of the runts and morons? What’s  _wrong_ with you?!”

For answer, the dragon burst into flame. “Okay, okay. I guess I owe you one. For all… this.” He took in a deep breath, just now realizing how much his partner had done for him. He’d spent the entire day taking on cold compresses and taking them off. Snotlout couldn’t think of anyone who’d devote that much time to caring for him. He’d let him rest, he’d gotten him treatment, he’d watched out for predators, he’d been there when Snotlout had been weak and lost it, and now he’d just spared him a humiliation that had had him half-dead with fear. “I owe you a lot, Hooky,” he said slowly.

Hookfang roared, but Snotlout knew from Hookfang’s roars. His interpretation was confirmed a moment later when his partner settled next to him in the grass and draped a wing round him. “You’re gonna tell me to get some rest, aren’t you.” He tried to sound angry, but in fact he was grateful. So grateful it was forming a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he choked as the tears came.

The side of the massive Nightmare head leaned against Snotlout’s ribcage and Hookfang started purring. The deep bass rumble thrummed through the big dragon next to him, reverberating through the wing and the ground Snotlout lay on. Hookfang kept purring as his tail patted the soothing snow compress into place, then curled around Snotlout’s shoulders, carefully keeping his tail-spikes on the outside, and came to rest warmly against his cheek. If Snotlout didn’t know better, he’d swear Hookfang’s tail was wiping away his tears. “Hooky…” he whispered. “Why are you doing this?”

The tip of Hookfang’s tail whapped him in the back of the head.

“You should have a stronger rider.”

Another whap.

“There’s no reason you should stay the night. You can just go back to Berk and come back in th…” Snotlout was cut off by a dragon shriek, followed up by another smack upside the head.

“Okay. Shutting up now…”

But Hookfang didn’t go anywhere. The tip of his tail snaked down to find Snotlout’s hand, which had fisted in the grass when he’d started crying, and curled into his palm again. Snotlout clutched it like a lifeline, fingers digging in. The warm weight of coils of dragon-tail pressed closer into Snotlout’s shoulders. Hookfang pretended it wasn’t there, and Snotlout knew better than to mention it.

The sun had sunk into the ocean by now, the sky a deep, sighing blue. Drained from the long ordeals of the day, Snotlout drifted into a light doze, comforted and safe. A giant claw raked through his hair like the world’s largest comb. Broad wings brushed the ice off his legs before they got too cold, and he could let it happen, secure in the knowledge that Hookfang would trouble himself to apply it again after a safe interval. The soft dragon tail in his hand was safe: it belonged to someone who cared for—

His eyes snapped open. “Hookfang, just checking, this is still a mutually beneficial alliance between savage Viking and wild beast, right?”

Hookfang roared up at the heavens, sending flocks of birds bursting from their perches into the sky.

"Okay. Cool. Just checking."

Throughout the night, the mutually beneficial alliance continued.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who wanted more of this. This is more self-indulgent catharsis of a fight I had with a friend.
> 
> Thanks to Thursday26 for beta'ing.

 

"I'm very disappointed in you, Snotlout."

Snotlout knows. He squeezes his eyes shut, fighting back the burn of tears. The sadness in his father's voice hurts far worse than the belt across his back: it's broad leather, and Spitelout isn't even hitting that hard. But the knowledge that he's a disappointment - now that cuts to the bone. "I'm sorry, Dad," he says, keeping his voice steady. It would be wrong of Snotlout to act like a whiny victim when his father is the injured party here.

"I was so shocked," his da's voice comes from behind him. "So very saddened. The meeting meant so much to me… and you didn't even think to tell them I was coming." There's a cracking sound as the belt does its work. It's a mild line of heat, nothing more. "They didn't keep a seat for me. I stood there like a clan-less outcast… all because my boy didn't care enough to tell them. On dragon-back, it would have taken half a day? Imagine my shock when I found out I didn't mean that much to you."

There's another crack of leather and Snotlout almost leans into it, desperate for it to hurt enough to block the heartache. He wishes it hurt more, wishes it would draw blood. Maybe then his father would forgive him. Not that he deserves it, letting him down so badly. His blood feels chilled in his veins, his stomach sinking, knowing he's not as good a son as he wanted to be, that no matter how hard he tries, he's always going to forget, always going to be neglectful, never going to be responsible enough. Good enough.

"Whenever I feel I want to give you another chance," his father says sadly, "whenever I think, he's a good boy, just careless… I get hurt by you again. I just can't trust you."

The words spill into Snotlout like a river of ice. The chill starts at his hands, gripping the edge of the dining-table, climbing up his arms and making his head spin.  _Can't trust you. Can't trust you. Can't trust you._

It's true. How many times has he let Hiccup down, disappointed his leader, let Hookfang down, let him get captured? How many times has he disappointed the Riders, left everyone in the lurch? More cold, more stinging in his eyes - no no no no  _no!_ His eyes are watering!

He takes the opportunity of the next stroke to let his head loll down, brushing his tears away against his upper arm. "It was a dream o'mine," his father's voice is soft and broken, "to have a son I could lean on, a man I could trust. A son who  _cared_ about me. But," he sighs, "it was not to be. I must have done something wrong not to earn your love…" the belt lands again, "there must be something I did to make you not care for me."

"I do care!" Snotlout chokes out desperately. "I do care, Dad! I do!" He clenches his teeth against the pain - not of the spanking, that's nothing, but of the bitter knowledge of what he's done.

"It's hard, boyo," Spitelout says mournfully, "to know you must make your way through life completely alone. No support. No-one to care about you." He sighs. "We're getting older, you know, son, your mother and I. Would you even care about us if we were bedridden and helpless? Or would you gladly forget us?"

His back is the only warm part of him - the rest of him is chilled, almost numb. "No! No, I'd never leave you- I'd never forget you!"

"I want to believe that, son." Another stroke. Snotlout can barely feel it. "I wish I could believe it. I wish I could rely on you…"

"You can, Dad! You can!"

"So many times I've tried, but each time you let me down. I'm so deeply upset with you, Snotlout. So disappointed. So shocked, that everything I've done for you means nothing. That you care for me so very little."

"I do! I do care!"

"I don't doubt that your heart's in the right place. That's the only reason I haven't given up on ye. Why I let you know what you've done wrong. But care should be shown by actions, not words. No matter how much you  _think_ you care, your  _actions_ tell a different story. Because it's your  _actions_ that have let your old father down."

Another stroke lands, but Snotlout can hardly feel it, he's so appalled with himself. Spitelout is so  _sad._ So disappointed. So  _hurt._ He can  _hear_ it in his da's voice. And he, Snotlout, is the  _cause_ of this hurt.  _He's_  the one who has made his father so unhappy.

"I still believe in you, you know." Snotlout snaps out of his thoughts, confused. Why does his da believe in him when he's let him down so often? "I see the good in you. You've good in you, Snotlout. I'm willin' to do what it takes to let that good shine."

Tears prick Snotlout's eyes. Again. He wants to thank his da for believing in him, but he's afraid he may cry, so he keeps silent. The belt is good, a distraction. But it's not hurting as much as it should. Why isn't it? He wants it to hurt.

"You let me down time and time again, but I still see the good in you. It's hard, boyo, Odin knows, it's hard." Another stroke. "Each tie I think, this is the time Snotlout turns over a new leaf. This is the time he  _shows me_ he cares! But every time you forget me, ignore what I asked you to do, leave me feelin' I have no son who cares for me. You keep leavin' me out in the cold."

"I don't mean to do that, Da, I promise I don't mean it!"

"I know. I know, son." The pain in his da's voice is carefully suppressed. "You've a good heart. I only see the best in you." Snotlout barely feels the belt as it lands. "I feel so let down. It's so painful to be hurt by your own son, your own flesh and blood..."

* * *

When he shuffles out of his father's house, Snotlout knows one thing: he hasn't been punished nearly enough. He wants to hurt until he cries, until he screams, until he can burn up into pain and be nothing but screaming.

The Nightmare undulating toward him is a good place to start. "Get lost, Hookfang," Snotlout sneers at him.

Hookfang ignores Snotlout, nosing under his tunic. Snotlout takes a step back. "No! Get off!" There's nothing to see under there - the skin isn't even broken. His father has been too kind to him, barely touching him, repaying Snotlout's cruelty with kindness. And Hookfang doesn't understand. He's always unfair to Snotlout's poor old father. He encourages Snotlout to be selfish. "I don't want you around!" Snotlout snarls.

"Calm, human," Hookfang grunts mildly. He and Snotlout are doing a kind of dance: Snotlout turns away so Hookfang can't access his back, Hookfang turns to follow, Snotlout turns again, and round and round they go. Some Berkians in the distance are starting to stare.

"Don't you tell me to be calm!" Snotlout flails at Hookfang, shoving him away with all the disrespect he used to show him in his younger days. "Get lost, pushy dragon! I don't want you here!"

"Too-bad. Hookfang not-leave."

Seeing a group of villagers passing a little closer, Snotlout takes a step back and points imperiously at Hookfang. "Down, dragon!" he yells, pitching his voice to carry. "I am your master and you will obey me!"

Hookfang's jaw drops for a moment as he stands still as a statue - it's been years since Snotlout's spoken to him this way. Then his pupils narrow and he bursts into flame.

And Snotlout throws himself into the fire.

* * *

Hookfang has never been gladder in his life that dragon reflexes are faster than human. Snotlout sounded all wrong insulting him - the heated scent of aggression was absent, Hookfang's nostrils picking up nothing but  _hate-self_ and  _guilt_ and  _misery._

And then, when the little human flung himself at him, the scent pierced Hookfang's head. He's smelt it before: the scent of a grief-mad dam who's lost her hatchlings, battering her body against granite or obsidian, requiring the nest to rush and surround and cushion her lest she kill herself in her pain-hungry mourning frenzy. Before Snotlout lands on Hookfang's body, he's already doused himself, his suspicion confirmed at the crazed shriek that comes out of his half-mad human when he falls against Hookfang's body and finds no flame. "Enough," Hookfang mutters, grabbing a mouthful of Snotlout's shirt and scooping him up as he spreads his wings.

Snotlout's reaction is predictable: "Put me down!" he screams, and "Crazy dragon!" The humans and dragons of Berk are familiar with Hookfang having to subdue Snotlout, so they think nothing of it. One advantage of having such a relationship with your rider. But when they're over open water, Snotlout starts  _struggling,_ as though he  _wants_ Hookfang to drop him into the freezing sea. Hookfang forbears asking which of them, exactly, is the crazy one.

Well, until he lands on the sea stack. "Snotlout no-brain?!" he roars, depositing the crazy human on the grass. "Thought humans  _smart!_ Snotlout want- _die?!"_

"No." Snotlout sits up and turns away from Hookfang. Hookfang gets a strong whiff of  _hot injured human-flesh,_ but he won't mention it now, not with how jumpy his rider is. Snotlout's tunic pulls tight as he folds his arms, and he hisses and drops them to his sides. Then he visibly squares his shoulders and folds his arms back across his chest, tighter than before. The scent of human-pain flares again.

"Snotlout…" All Hookfang can see is Nyade, back in the Red Death's nest, beating herself half-senseless against the wall of the cave when the Queen ate her hatchlings. The other Fire-Scales in the nest took it upon themselves to surround Nyade, keep her from injuring herself, and comfort her. Hookfang watched, but didn't take part. Maybe he should have. He might have learned something.

Hookfang tries again. "Snotlout…" He can hear how hesitant he sounds. He's nervous. He doesn't want to put ideas in Snotlout's head, but on the other hand, it's clear what the human is doing, and… "Snotlout… want hurt-self?"

"No," Snotlout huffs, back turned. "Yes. No. Maybe."

"H'h." Hookfang lets out a snort of amusement. "Best thing about humans,  _decisive."_

"Where'd you learn that? Been hanging out with the smart humans again?"

There's too much bitterness in Snotlout's voice. "Snotlout smart," Hookfang rumbles.

"Yeah," Snotlout mutters. "Whatever." There's less of the dam battering herself against a stone wall now. More of Nyade when she refused food and lay down to die.

Hookfang feels himself burst into flame. He's no good for this! He should get someone - some human to help! Hiccup, Hiccup is good with Snotlout! - Fish-human with his  _understanding!_ \- Toothless-Queen, who knows about  _emotions,_ to help! Snotlout is hurting inside - outside, too, but inside more - and he's turning  _away_ from Hookfang! Shells and flames, Hookfang  _doesn't know how to help him!_

He roars, puts out his flame, chomps Snotlout, and shakes him before dumping him on the grass. "Snotlout  _smart,"_ he repeats.

Snotlout looks up at him, a small spark in his eyes. "I dare you to do that again."

"Hookfang not-obey Snotlout."

"Coward."

Well, Hookfang can't have that, so he snaps Snotlout up in his jaws and shakes him again. As he dumps him to the ground, Snotlout reaches out and grabs one of Hookfang's teeth. "What human-" Hookfang cries out. Is Snotlout trying to pull his tooth out?

Then Hookfang tastes blood.  _Human_ blood.

Hookfang gasps for breath before he understands: Snotlout's using his position in Hookfang's mouth to scrape himself along the points of Hookfang's teeth. Snotlout is Nyade, and Hookfang-Hookfang is the wall of obsidian? He screams  _No_ , a wordless roar of denial. "Let go!" he cries. "Let  _go!"_

Snotlout holds on. All Hookfang can hear from the human is grunting. He shakes his head, but Snotlout's grip is firm, and the shaking only mauls Snotlout's limbs more, Hookfang's nostrils clogged with the reek of blood. Cursed Vikings with their accursed more-than-human strength, anyway. Awkwardly, Hookfang rears up on his hind legs and grabs Snotlout around the waist with his wing-claws. Snotlout's strong for a human, but no human can resist the full strength of a Fire-Scale's grip. The hands around Hookfang's tooth loosen, and he lets go, sending Snotlout tumbling to the grass.

Hookfang lets out a cry. His human's arms are gashed all over from his teeth, welling dark red blood, stark against pale hairless skin. Snotlout's leggings are torn, blood staining gradually through the human-covering. Nyade had bruises and scratches from the rock, but dragon-hide is hardier than human skin. "No…" he growls, shaking his head. Snotlout is lying flat on his back in the grass, chest heaving. His eyes are closed, but there's a smug smile on his face. Smug? Satisfied? Hookfang doesn't know and doesn't care. He bends to Snotlout and starts to lick the visible wounds, chilling at the taste of blood. "Snotlout not-use Hookfang to hurt Snotlout," he whispers, shaking his head, still not believing Snotlout had the effrontery to use him in that way.

Snotlout's eyes open, and there's a flicker of worry in his expression. "Not your fault, Hooky," he whispers, still panting for breath. "Something I," he gasps, "had to do."

Hookfang is too shocked even to flame - not that he  _could_  while so close to his fragile human. He allows twin plumes of smoke to escape from his nostrils. "Snotlout must-hurt Snotlout?!" He breathes out more smoke. Some of the gashes are deep under his tongue. "Why? Dragon hurt-self for mourning, for  _death._ But you…" It occurs to him that Snotlout might have heard bad news visiting his home. He lowers his tone, leaning in closer. "Hookfang not-know. Some human Snotlout-kin, dead?"

Snotlout blinks for a moment, clearly having a little trouble parsing the Dragonese in his addled state. Then his face clears. "Oh! No, Hooky. Nobody died." His expression darkens again. "I… My dad didn't punish me enough, that's all."

This time Hookfang  _does_ flame, and it's like letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He rears away from Snotlout, flames higher and roars. "What mean?!" he manages to phrase for human ears. "What…" Curse it all, he is reduced to asking inane questions as humans do! "Hookfang hear sound. Smell pain. Not-should…" He shakes his head. His flame cools. "Snotlout good," he says, much softer. His flame burns out with a soft  _phut._ "Not-should hurt Snotlout. Not-should punish. Not-should big-punish, not-should small-punish,  _not-should."_ He slinks closer again, and resumes tonguing the bleeding cuts on Snotlout's arms.

"Nope," Snotlout breaks into a regretful smile. "Should." He bats Hookfang's tongue away. "Not this time, Fangster." He rolls onto his side, away from Hookfang. "Let it be."

"Not-want…" There's a tightness in Hookfang's chest. "Not want Hookfang lick wounds?"

"They're not wounds. Just scratches. And I deserve them."

Hookfang flames. "Deserve?!"

"Yeah. I do, Fangster." Snotlout sounds ashamed, and he's looking intently at the grass. "I hurt my dad. Hurt him bad."

"Good!" Hookfang feels like cheering. "Hit him back?! When? Hookfang not-hear!"

A soft gasp escapes Snotlout. "No! Hit…?" He shakes his head rapidly, eyes widening. " _No,_ Hookfang! I didn't  _hit_ him!"

Ah, that accursed taboo again. Hookfang's flame subsides as he shakes his head. He should have known better. Humans will never strike dam or sire. "Snotlout-say, hurt sire. How hurt?"

Snotlout, already so small, seems to shrink in on himself. "I hurt his feelings. Made him feel unloved. I'm always making him feel like I don't love him."

And Hookfang laughs.

"Hey!" Snotlout sits up to face Hookfang, fists clenching at his sides. Fresh blood wells from the cuts on his arms at the movement. "Don't laugh at me!"

"Hookfang not-laugh at Snotlout. Laugh because… Snotlout speak not-true."

"I'm no liar!"

"No. Wait." Hookfang widens his pupils to let Snotlout see he's not picking a fight. "Not-easy say-Dragonese. Let Hookfang think."

"Oh! I didn't realize you were having trouble… Okay, Fangster. Take all the time you need." By the Foreverwing, when Snotlout gets that soft look in his eyes, there's nothing Hookfang wouldn't do for him. Not that he'd ever tell Snotlout.

"Snotlout… believe… not-lying. Snotlout not-lie. Still, what Snotlout say not-true. Snotlout always show sire love. Snotlout-sire," Hookfang struggles to find words, "...if Snotlout lose race, lose contest… Sire take love away." Dragons alive, that was hard. "But Snotlout love sire always. Angry, sad, happy, hurt, not-hurt, Snotlout-love for sire not-change. And now Snotlout say  _Snotlout_ not-love sire? How?"

Snotlout is silent, thinking. Hookfang takes the opportunity to slip his tongue under Snotlout's leggings and lick the cuts there, too. Deep, furrowed gashes, some of them. Human flesh really is fragile. But Snotlout's holding out an arm, turning it this way and that to look at the glint of dark blood, and looking…  _satisfied._

Finally, Snotlout says, "You don't understand, Fangster. He loves me. He's always loved me. He's my  _dad,_ for Thor's sake! I'm the one who keeps letting him down. I'm lucky he still loves me after everything I did to him."

Hookfang can't help taking a step back and bursting into flame again. Humans are mad, mad, mad! They cannot see the truth when it is flaming like a beacon in the night! His sire was right...

Hookfang blinks. His… sire…

He's not Fish-human and he's not Toothless-Queen, but… maybe...

Dousing his flame, Hookfang flops down on the grass, laying his head next to Snotlout. "If Hookfang tell Snotlout… Not saying true, mind. But  _if._ If Hookfang tell Snotlout Hookfang-sire punish Hookfang. When hatchling. No-food for days. Clutchmates eat, Hatchling Hookfang hungry."

Snotlout, who's been drooping a little as he sits, bolts straight up. "What?!"

"Not saying true. But  _if."_

"Hookfang…" Snotlout reaches out with his bleeding arms and takes Hookfang's snout in both his hands. "Hookfang…"

"Not. Saying. True," Hookfang says firmly. "Like human. Say  _if."_

"Okay, okay." Snotlout lifts his hands off Hookfang's snout, holding them up,  _no-threat._  "If. Just theoretically."

"Theo…?"

"Just imagination."

"H'h. Yes." Hookfang meets Snotlout's eyes. "Imagine Hatchling Hookfang fall-sleep when should-keep watch. Imagine Hookfang-sire punish, make Hookfang no-sleep three nights."

" _What?!"_

"Hatchling Hookfang want-sleep. Tired, so tired. Sire force-wake. For sleeping on watch." He allows himself a long blink. "Nights pass, no sleep. Hard for hatchling. Head pain, dizzy. But sire say must-punish." He adds hurriedly, "Imagine."

This time Snotlout doesn't let Hookfang get a word in; he flings his arms around Hookfang's snout and presses his cheek into Hookfang's eye-bulbs. "Oh no, Fangster,  _no!"_ Snotlout murmurs a stream of words, many human-words Hookfang can't quite make out, but his nuzzling says it all. Why does it feel like it's knitting Hookfang's heart back together?

"Snotlout just- _said_ normal. Said sire must-punish mistakes." Hookfang takes advantage of the position he's in to lick Snotlout's damaged limbs softly.

"Hookfang!" Snotlout bursts out. "You didn't  _mean_ it! You were a  _baby!_ Nobody should treat you that way! Little dragons need food and sleep! How dare he!"

"Not-should take away food and sleep?"

" _No,_ Hooky!" More hugging and nuzzling. "Never!"

"So… So Hookfang-sire should-punish Hatchling Hookfang with…" The word comes haltingly. "Beating?"

Snotlout's hold tightens so much that for a moment Hookfang thinks the fragile little human arms might actually do damage. "Nobody better uh-b-beat you, b-big boy," Snotlout chokes, face pressed tight into Hookfang's eye-bulbs. "Nobody better  _touch_ you. You hear me?" His voice is a fierce whisper. It makes Hookfang shiver.

There are many things Hookfang could say to drive his point home, but in this moment, all he can think to say is, "Now know how Hookfang feel."

Snotlout's arms fall away. "Uh…" He lifts one arm to rub the back of his neck, but stops when he's raised it to shoulder height, breathing fast and shallow. "That's different…"

Hookfang slides one long fang between Snotlout's belt and its buckle, slipping it out of the metal loop. "Hey!" Ignoring the protest as the belt falls away, Hookfang slips his tongue under Snotlout's newly-loosened tunic, checking his back. The skin isn't broken, but it's swollen and has the stinging taste of flesh whipped raw. 'Not punished enough', indeed. He has to make an effort to keep himself from flaming.

"Snotlout just-say not-punished enough," Hookfang growls. "Then Snotlout say not-want Hookfang-sire beat Hookfang." He licks the raw skin. "Make mind up."

"It's…" Snotlout shakes his head, bleeding arms lying in his lap. "It's a human thing. It's complicated."

"Explain," Hookfang says mildly, still licking. Finishing Snotlout's sore back, he starts on the arms again. He's seen humans get infections from dragon teeth, and the human elder now has issued standing instructions to dragons to lick any wounds they cause by mistake. He doesn't want his dear beloved dumb stupid boarheaded little human to get infected. "Teach. Make Hookfang understand human-things."

"Uhh…" Snotlout looks completely at a loss; Hookfang allows himself a moment of feeling smug. "Uh, well…"

"Hookfang listening."

Clearly, Snotlout hasn't thought this through. Hookfang waits.

Snotlout lets Hookfang take care of his arms for long moments before he speaks, voice low. "It's… I hurt my dad. I let him down. I hurt him real bad, Hooky. I - I wanted to… I just wanted to feel like I'd paid for it, that's all."

"Hatchling Hookfang hurt also clutchmates, sire. Fell asleep on watch. Crasher attacked. Sire injured, nearly died. No-sleep… what humans call? Appropriate punishment?"

" _No,_ Hookfang!" Snotlout raises his arms to wrap around Hookfang's snout again. Judging them clean enough, Hookfang starts the more difficult task of tonguing the furrows on Snotlout's legs. There's torn skin hanging from them, and it makes Hookfang's chest ache to know it's  _his_ teeth that have caused the damage. "No! No, you were a hatchling! And you made a  _mistake!_ Who forces a kid to stay awake for days because they fell asleep?" Soft hands scratch Hookfang's eyes and stroke his face. "You're not one of the gods or something! Anyone can slip up! Who doesn't make mistakes once in a while?!"

Hookfang isn't ashamed to sound smug. "Good. Tell Snotlout."

The hands caressing Hookfang's face pause as Snotlout stills. "But…" he says haltingly. "B-but I made him hurt…"

"Crasher attacked when Hookfang sleep, broke sire-wing. Hurt sire. Okay sire whip Hookfang?"

"He can't whip you," Snotlout mutters, face too close to Hookfang's nose for him to see his expression. "Dragons don't do that stuff."

Hookfang nods. "True. Not-whip." If Snotlout is going to be difficult… "Fights in nest, break ribs. Wings. Legs-"

" _Hookfang!"_ Snotlout cuts him off, appalled, and draws back. "Did anyone ever…?"

"No," Hookfang reassures him. "But… Why Snotlout have one rule for Snotlout and not-same rule for Hookfang?"

Snotlout sighs, slumping sideways against Hookfang's cheek. "I feel so bad about hurting him…"

Hookfang can't resist tonguing Snotlout's back. "Sire not-hurt.  _Snotlout_ hurt."

Snotlout shivers under Hookfang's tongue, but his voice is a reedy protest. "This is nothing!"

"Sire-hurt also nothing."

"It's a human thing." Snotlout shakes his head. "I can't make you understand."

"Not-need understand," Hookfang says in between licks, "need one rule for both. Same rule for Hookfang and Snotlout."

Snotlout falls silent. At least he's not disrespecting Hookfang by pretending he doesn't understand. The wind ruffles the tufts of grass on the sea-stack. Hookfang's ears can pick up Snotlout drawing in a long breath, then exhaling.

"Did that stuff…" Snotlout's voice isn't quite steady. Hookfang wants to growl, but holds back, for reasons he can't understand. "Did… you know, making you go without food... did that really…?" Snotlout swallows. "Not letting you sleep…?"

Hookfang turns his head away, huffing out smoke. He knows what Snotlout's asking, he just wants to delay answering for a moment more. "What Snotlout-question?"

A soft little human hand settles against the back of his neck, just behind his horns. "D-did that really happen to you?"

Hookfang growls loudly, although he keeps his skin from heating. "Hookfang said  _if."_

There's a long pause. Familiar human fingers scratch the spot behind his horns and the backs of his eye-bulbs. "Yeah," Snotlout finally breathes. "I know you said that."

Hookfang drags in a long, long breath. He's overcome by an urge to lay his head in Snotlout's lap, but his human's legs are too hurt. Hurt by  _his_ teeth. He growls again, although his heart isn't in it.

"Sorry, Hooky," Snotlout blurts, "I didn't mean to stick my nose into your personal-"

"Yes." It slips out of Hookfang almost against his will. He turns his head toward Snotlout and presses close, burrowing his cheek into Snotlout's waist, his jaw lying against the side of his leg.

Snotlout's breath catches. Then he wraps his still-bleeding arm around the back of Hookfang's neck and pulls him in tighter, sliding his horns between soft human neck and shoulder to tuck the top of Hookfang's head into his chest. Snotlout's other hand comes up to stroke his snout between his eyes and nose-horn, and he rocks them both back and forth gently in that way that comforts humans. Being petted comforts Hookfang, too.

After a long time, Hookfang speaks. "Long time, Hookfang believe… believe Hookfang-sire right for punish. For no-food, no-sleep. Later… Queen also," he has to swallow a sudden urge to flame, "also punish. Only later… later Hookfang understand not-right hurt, not-right punish." He leans into the little human hand. "Understand… on Berk-Nest. Understand on Dragon's Edge. But," he lets a growl slip into his voice, "if Snotlout say Snotlout-sire right… then Hookfang-sire also right. Then Queen also right to punish. If Snotlout-sire right, then Hookfang also," he says it haltingly, "...deserve?" Curse it, he didn't mean it to come out a question.

Snotlout pulls him closer, stroking his eyelids shut with gentle fingers as if to give him back the sleep that was stolen from him. "No, Fangster." His voice is a rasp. He presses his cheek into Hookfang's face, shaking his head. "You don't deserve that. Never," he whispers, "never."

Hookfang tries his hardest to suppress the way that whisper makes him tremble, but he can't quite manage it. "Snotlout also not-deserve."

They're sitting so close that Hookfang feels it when Snotlout slumps against him. "It's not the same…"

"One rule," Hookfang growls, a reminder. "Hookfang, Snotlout, one rule."

"Yeah, okay… but you're a  _good_ dragon!"

"Snotlout good human," he finds himself blurting with a fierceness that surprises even him. He shakes off Snotlout's embrace, feeling a little bereft, and bursts into flame. He circles to face his human, then roars, "Snotlout good human!" He flames higher and bares his teeth. "Say else, Hookfang burn crisp. Understand?"

Snotlout should be showing fear… but instead, his face  _softens._ "I understand." Those blue eyes of his grow wide, and he breaks into a little smile. "I know you believe that-"

"Not  _believe. Know."_ Hookfang spreads his wings and blasts into the sky in what he thinks is one of his better threat displays. "Snotlout  _good human."_

"Okay, Fangster. Okay." But the slump of Snotlout's shoulders and the droop of his head say different.

Hookfang collapses his wings and breathes out flame, turning his head to the side so as not to inadvertently make good on his threat of burning his rider to a crisp. "What stupid-think in Snotlout-dumb-head now?!"

"Watch your mouth, dragon," Snotlout mutters, staring down at a welling gash on his arm.

" _Human_ watch mouth. What thinking?!"

"I let you down." It's the same muttered monotone. "I got separated from you so many times. I let Hiccup down, I let…"

"Separated not Snotlout-fault!" Hookfang can't believe what he's hearing. "Puny human stronger than  _storm?_ Than  _lightning?!"_ He shakes his head. "Than hunters?" ...Besides… "Hookfang always-leave Snotlout." He tongues the blood off Snotlout's arm mournfully. "Hurt Snotlout."

"No, you don't!" At least the fire is back in Snotlout's voice. "Not like I don't deserv-" Hookfang roars. "Okay, okay!"

Hookfang's not done. "Where Snotlout  _get_ ideas?! Hiccup  _say_ Snotlout let-down?"

Snotlout smells like he wants very much to lie. But finally he says, "...no."

"Snotlout say let-down Riders. Who? Astrid? Fish-human? Human Two-Head? They say Snotlout let-down?"

Hookfang watches as Snotlout thinks. Snotlout's chest expands slowly, then subsides. "They… say I'm obnoxious," he mutters.

"True. Snotlout obnoxious."

"Gee, thanks-"

"But not let-down. Not-same," Hookfang says firmly.

"I let my dad down…"

Snotlout's just lucky Hookfang manages to get far away enough from him before bursting into flame and roaring, for he can't keep his flame cool this time. "Snotlout  _say_ mistakes normal. Say not-should punish for mistakes. Change rules  _again?!"_

Snotlout stares at him, eyes and mouth open. "N...no… I guess not…"

"Hookfang also obnoxious," Hookfang finds himself whispering.

Snotlout reaches out with both arms. "I like you that way." His tone changes into the way humans talk to their human-hatchlings. "You obnoxious big scary dragon, you."

There's no-one around to see. Hookfang pushes his snout into Snotlout's arms and nuzzles him, letting himself enjoy the way Snotlout avoids his underbite to lay his cheek against his nose-horn, still murmuring all sorts of sappy things. Hookfang lets himself breathe, scenting  _protectiveness_ on Snotlout. At last, his human doesn't believe he deserved to be treated that way, not Hookfang and not himself. His human is still nuzzling him, his touch cool and soft and small and fragile…

...and falling asleep against his snout? Yes - he's definitely slumping, exhausted from arguing and hurting. "Sleep?"

"Hm?" Snotlout jerks up. "Sorry, I-"

"Shut up." Hookfang scents rain in the air, which is excuse enough to sweep the little human up into the fold of his wing. "Too much human-talk," he growls menacingly. He knocks Snotlout's helmet aside with his other wing, setting it on the grass close by. "Enough. Sleep now."

Snotlout turns his head this way and that, taking in the wing surrounding him. He instinctively turns onto his side to spare his sore back and draws up his torn and bleeding limbs. Hookfang can tell he's only half-awake. "I don't need…" he mutters.

"Need mace in head, what Snotlout-need," Hookfang growls. "Want Hookfang burn crisp?"

Snotlout blinks up at him, open, trusting. Those eyes, those  _damned_ big blue hatchling-eyes! Snotlout has no  _business_ looking this vulnerable! "Uh…" he says intelligently.

Sure enough, a light drizzle starts falling. Snotlout just looks up at the droplets of water landing on him. Hookfang rolls his eyes, closing his other wing over his rider. "Humans say… not-know enough to come in out of the rain?"

"Mouthy…" Snotlout lets out a huge yawn, "dragon…"

"If Snotlout stubborn, Snotlout dragon-snack."

Snotlout giggles at the threat -  _giggles!_ Hookfang needs to up his threat game. "My bones w…" another yawn, "would stick in your teeth."

Hookfang snorts. "Not-problem. Dragon-dentist on Berk."

He waits for his human's retort, but all he can hear is even breathing. Safe from the wind and rain, head pillowed on one arm, curled up on his side, Snotlout has fallen asleep.

Hookfang inhales. There's still the tang of blood, but also  _comfort-rest._ He's glad of it. He starts to purr - because  _he_ feels like it, not because it'll soothe Snotlout's sleep, no matter what that sappy Night Fury says. He'd be a fine dragon to stop himself from purring just because Toothless might get the wrong idea, and Toothless-Queen isn't even here, anyway. Idiot dragon. Idiot human, too, making one rule for himself and one for Hookfang. He'll cure Snotlout of that  _somehow._  Even if he ends up having to eat him.

The warm little weight in his wings shifts in his sleep. Hookfang thinks of Snotlout's comforting hands and big hatchling-eyes and his chest aches. He brushes the soft dark head with his chin and a tremor runs through him. Yeah, the only way to keep the idiot safe is to hold him right here in his wings where he can keep an eye on him, so he won't do anything stupid.

Or Hookfang could just eat him. That would work. Hookfang snorts. Probably give him indigestion, too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a thank-you for Sakumi, who indirectly managed to convince me not to curb my sappy instincts, though I never asked him to. <3

Snotlout's eyes open slowly.

The throbbing cuts in his arms and legs are being licked and soothed. A draconic head is pressed against the top of his own, rubbing softly. He's wrapped in a warm, scaly wing. In front of his face is a ridged Nightmare underbelly. And all around him is the thrum of a deep, steady purring.

Other senses filter in. Pattering on the outside of the wing, raindrops. Sharp sweet fresh smell of the earth after rain - petrichor, Fishlegs calls it - warm rise and fall of Nightmare breathing. All around him. Enfolding him. "Hookfang," he whispers. His voice is hoarse. He tries again.

"Silence." His dragon partner sounds bossy. He only sounds like that when he's upset or worried.

"You okay, Fangster?"

"Human half-kill self. Ask if Hookfang okay. Idiot." The tongue laving his wounds gentles further, every swipe easing the throbbing and bringing relief.

Snotlout should want to fight. Argue. Something. Instead, he shifts a little closer, so his cheek is pressed against the ridges of Hookfang's tummy. Giving in to an impulse, he flats his hand against one of the ridges. It's warm. So warm. He nuzzles the bit of underbelly and smiles, sighing. Pulsing against his hand and cheek, he can feel the slow, powerful  _ ba-dump  _ of a draconic heart beating.

More grumbling from above him. "Now Hookfang not-can reach cuts. Human always be-difficult." The long neck undulates above him, Hookfang's head shifting position. A moment later, the long prehensile tongue slips under his tunic and starts to soothe his sore back. Snotlout feels his muscles turn to water with relief and he melts into his partner's embrace, limp against his tummy. He wants to say thank you. He wants to say something. To tell Hookfang he isn't weak. To tell himself. But this is such bliss… He gives in and lets himself be taken care of. The Nightmare grumbling above him is the perfect counterpoint. "Dumb-as-bag-of-rocks human. Hurt by sire, so hurt  _ self _ more. What next? Meet Ryker, disembowel self?"

Snotlout giggles. The wing gathers him in a little closer, the purring rises in volume just a fraction. "Not-need dragon-hunters anymore. Have Snotlout do-job FOR them. Hookfang see many idiots hurt self in Hookfang-life, but Snotlout win Grand Prize of Idiots Who Hurt Self…"

Snotlout's eyelids slip closed. He drifts, a great big goofy grin on his face.

"...and if Hookfang ever see such crazy idiot thing again, burn Snotlout crisp, since Snotlout want so much hurt self, then give remains to Hunters to send to Valhalla and…"

The complaining continues.


End file.
